The attic was dusty, dimly lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. That evening, Aria sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, the bundle of letters spread out before her. She had sorted them by date, the earliest one penned in 1948. Each letter carried an emotional weight that made her chest tighten as she read.

Evelyn’s words spoke of longing, of stolen moments, and of a love that defied the conventions of her time. Yet, every letter ended the same way—with promises left unfulfilled and a haunting question: Why didn’t he write back?

Aria rubbed her temples. The mystery tugged at her curiosity but also at her heart. Evelyn’s pain felt almost tangible, as if it had been waiting decades for someone to uncover it.

Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. She picked it up and saw a message from Lila.

Lila: Any juicy secrets yet? Don’t forget—start with the steamy ones.

Aria chuckled, typing a reply.
Aria: They’re romantic, not scandalous. And no, I haven’t found anything ‘steamy.’

Lila: Yet.

Shaking her head, Aria set her phone aside and picked up one of the letters. She read aloud softly, the words filling the attic like a prayer.

"My dearest S,
Tonight, the sea was restless, much like my heart. I thought of you beneath the stars, wondering if you looked at them and thought of me too. How cruel it is, this distance between us. If only we had more time—if only the world were kinder to hearts like ours."

She paused, her throat tightening. The letter felt alive, its sentiments raw and unfiltered. Who was S? And what had happened to separate them?

Aria leaned back, staring at the wooden beams overhead. She knew she wouldn’t find answers sitting in the attic. If Evelyn had written these letters, there had to be something more—records, clues, anything that could paint a fuller picture of her life.

The next morning, Aria stood outside the local historical society. The building was small but charming, with ivy creeping up its stone walls. The bell above the door tinkled as she stepped inside, greeted by the faint scent of old books and polished wood.

“Good morning, Ms. Moreau,” said an elderly woman behind the counter. Mrs. Cartwright had been running the society for as long as Aria could remember. Her sharp blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as she added, “You’re up early.”

“I’ve been doing some research,” Aria said, holding up a photocopy of one of the letters. “I was wondering if you had anything on Samuel Hale.”

The name hung in the air, and Mrs. Cartwright’s expression shifted. She pursed her lips, as though weighing her words.

“Samuel Hale,” she repeated. “Now, there’s a name I haven’t heard in years.”

“You know of him?” Aria pressed, leaning forward.

Mrs. Cartwright nodded slowly. “Of course. The Hale family was quite prominent in Azure Bay. Samuel was…” She paused, her gaze softening. “A complicated man. Tragic, some might say.”

Aria’s heart raced. “What happened to him?”

Mrs. Cartwright sighed. “Let me fetch the archives. Wait here.”

As the older woman disappeared into the back room, Aria’s mind buzzed with possibilities. Was this the S Evelyn had written to? If Samuel Hale was part of Azure Bay’s history, there might be more about him than she’d anticipated.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Cartwright returned with a slim folder. “This is what we have,” she said, handing it over.

Aria opened the folder carefully. Inside were clippings from old newspapers, a faded photograph of a young man in a military uniform, and handwritten notes.

Her fingers trembled as she read the headline of one article:
“Local Romance Ends in Mystery: Samuel Hale Disappears Without a Trace.”

“Disappears?” Aria whispered.

Mrs. Cartwright nodded grimly. “He vanished one summer night in 1949. No one knows why, but it broke a lot of hearts—especially one.”

Aria stared at the photograph, her mind racing. Samuel’s piercing eyes and sharp features seemed to stare back at her, full of secrets.

“Especially one,” she murmured again. Could that one heart have been Evelyn’s?

The bell above the door jingled, and Aria looked up to see Sebastian walking in. His eyes swept the room before landing on her, his brows furrowing slightly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Aria snapped the folder shut. “Research.”

He nodded slowly, glancing at the folder in her hands. “Anything interesting?”

“Maybe,” she said, her voice guarded.

Sebastian tilted his head, his curiosity evident. “You’re a mystery, Aria Moreau.”

“You have no idea,” she muttered, clutching the folder tightly.